Not Pure
by DeliciousKrabKakes
Summary: This is a really depressing story. If you read this, get some tissues. This is just a one-shot, wrote it just because I feel a lil' depressed tonight... :  R&R plz!


**This is just a little one-shot. And it will remain so. I would still love to see reviews on this story. I am sorry, but I'm feeling really angsty and depressed tonight. So I figured I'd write an angsty and depressing story. Sorry. XD DISCLAIMER: I do not own Danny Phantom, if I did, there would be so much more than what Butch Hartman gave us. WARNING: you may need a few tissues for this one. My heart clenched as the idea came into my head, and even more so while it developed. Here goes nothing...**

**Danny's POV**

I walked down the road with my best friends at hand, well, my best friend and my girlfriend. I hope they didn't notice that I was off today. I had been lately, so my guess would be, no. They haven't said anything about my attitude yet, therefore, they probably wouldn't. I hadn't told anyone of what had been happening to me lately. I even tried to keep the facts away from myself. But it was true, the world in which I had saved, viewed me as a menace and a threat. I just went out to check the mail, like I do everyday, when my name was printed on the lot of letters that filled the mailbox. All of them were anonymous. And all of them were either hate-mail or death threats. I still check the mail everyday, knowing what will meet my gaze, a few bills given to mom and dad, possibly a couple issues of _Genius Magazine_ for Jazz, and the rest of it: hate mail and death threats for me. A lot of them said that I was worthless, others said things like, quote, "You are a demon that infests the world, you are not human, you say you are not a ghost. What you _are_ is evil. Go rot in hell where you belong." end quote. Within every letter, pure hatred and spite pierced his chest. He loved these people. He was one of them. And yet, they hated him. They wanted him to die. They didn't care that he'd saved the world, bringing it together as he did so. They didn't care, all they saw was a freak of nature, something that didn't belong with the normal people, something that had to be destroyed. The thoughts swirled in his head. People saw that he was talking and laughing with his friends as they walked towards Casper High, what they didn't see was the small cuts that lined his arms, just beneath his red jacket.

Another day, another death threat. Except, there was always more than one. More than two, and three, sometimes even more than five just in one day. Only to be greeted by the same hatred the next day. Life was a living hell. Sometimes I just wanted out. I went home and up to my room where I locked the door. I glanced around, as always, before reaching underneath my bed pulling out a small shoebox. I tore off my jacket and opened the box that contained a solitary knife. I fingered the weapon with a loving gaze. I made sure the shades were shut before pressing the blade to my skin. The nerves screamed as the blade went through the tough scarring tissue that had built up over the past few weeks. I dragged the blade slowly across the skin, blood pouring down my arm. I gazed at the red waterfall flowing down my pale arm. They contrasted so beautifully, the blood and pain had an oddly soothing effect on him. The closer he got to death, the better he felt. It felt good to obey, for once. They wanted him dead so badly, and he bent to their will... halfway, his usual style.

I walked to school alone, for once, Sam's parents had dragged her off to Hawaii for a "much-needed vacation", while Tucker just didn't feel up to walking today, and took the bus instead. I was perfectly happy with that, I could let my mask of happiness fade into the hellish nightmare of emotion that I truly felt with every fiber of my being. I looked up and saw a priest. He had a large bowl in his hands. He stared at me with a looming intensity. I smiled at him. Big mistake. His face became contorted with rage as he shouted at me to die, to go back to hell where I belonged. He splashed the bowl of Holy Water all over me. A pain like no other came over my body. I was on fire, it felt, but I wasn't. There were no flames, just damp skin that blistered an ugly red. I collapsed to my knees, begging to God that it would just end.

"God has no sympathy for creatures like _you_! He loves his children! _You_ are a child of Saten!" The priest spat out the word "you" as though they were swears. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't, that I was only trying to help those I loved. That I used something tragic that had happened to me, to benefit the lives of others. I wanted him to know that I was not evil. As though having him know would help me, somehow. But it didn't. The burning continued until I lost conciousness.

I woke up in the arms of my mother, who was crying hard. I opened my eyes to find her and my father's tear-filled eyes. The burning had ceased, and I was dry. Holy Water. Fucking HOLY WATER! How the hell does something pure cause so much pain? The realization hit me. I wasn't pure. I thought of all the times that I used my ghost powers against a mere mortal. Most of it for just a silly game of revenge. I remembered how hard it was to stay focused on the task of why I hunted ghosts, to help others. I though of all of the times that I wanted to just say "fuck the world" and leave it in the dark and scary hands of the evil ghosts that infested it. I thought of how tempting it was to be evil. To join the dark forces that I fought. To watch the ones that I despised writhe in agony. I wasn't pure. I saw their point of view to the fullest extent. I needed to die. I couldn't hurt these people anymore. I was evil. A demon that was feared by many. Half of me might have loved ones and emotions, but what of the other half? I simply couldn't kill half of myself, the evil had been inside of me for far too long. It consumed me, no matter how much I fought it. It was there. And merely knowing of it's existance made me realize that I had to die. I wasn't given any other option. I couldn't risk putting my family in harm's way, having some physcopath murder all of those that I hold dear, to get to me. I had to die before that happened. I had to get ready for my demise.

Jazz was off at her newfound friend Heather's house. And my parents were about to leave for a big Ghost Hunting meeting. I had the house to myself. My mom kissed my forehead, Dad ruffled my hair. I told them how much I loved them, how much I would miss them. My parents just looked a little confused, but brushed my final farewell away, returning their feelings half-heartedly, they were in a hurry. I called up Sam and Tuck and did the same. Their voices betrayed their confusion and possible distrust. I called my sister the last. I told her that I loved her, that I missed her, and that she means a lot to me. She sounded as confused as the other four had been. My heart felt like exploding. I would never hear their voices again. I knew it. There was no turning back now. I turned away from the phone. Turned away from all of my loved ones. Having said goodbye to them all. I stepped into my room and yanked out a notebook that was hidden in my desk drawer. I glanced at the will and suicide note. I tore out the pages and laid them carefully on my bed. I opened another drawer. Death threats and hate mail filled the drawer. I tipped the drawer over and watched as they all fell to the floor, littering the ground. They had to know why. I walked into the bathroom, the tub filled with Holy Water. And to add to the appearance, blood blossoms floated innocently, gliding in the Holy Water. It almost looked peaceful. I didn't bother to take off anything but his shoes. I didn't want them to see my naked corpse when they found me. Tears streaked I face as he hoisted his leg up, stepping into the water. Ignoring the searing pain in my right leg, I stepped into the water, both legs now on fire. Steadily, I lowered my entire body into the Holy Water, as though it were simple. The pain was horrific. I had no control now, I couldn't have stepped out of this now, eve if I had wanted to. Too late, decision made. My body remained on fire, I didn't fight the pain. Instead, I lowered my head beneath the water. Searing pain. I never ended. My blood was ice in my veins. My lungs were not functioning, similar to the rest of my burning body. I was in so much pain, so much agonizing pain. And suddenly, it stopped. The world span fast. And then it was gone. He was dead. He looked into the light that had formed just beyond the horizon. He took a fleeting glance at the image of himself, lying dead in the bathtub. He sighed and turned back to the light. He walked on, he moved on... he passed on.

**Sad, right? Oh well, at least it's out of my system now. R&R! Like I said before, just a depressing one-shot. ;)**


End file.
